Legacy
by Wunder Boy
Summary: "For the first time, she takes her eyes off the floor and looks at him. Her eyes are puffy, and her nose red; nonetheless, he still thinks that she is extremely pretty." Oneshot.


**A/N: **Previous story with supposedly all of these connected one shots has been deleted because I lost the file of all the other ones and I'm so disheartened that I decided to scratch the whole thing. Reposting this and the other two because it's all I've got to show for all the hard work I've done. (sniff)

Though I don't really like the pairing very much, this was one of my favorites. I hope you like it. :)

**Disclaimer: **Anything you recognize belongs to the supreme ruler J.K. Rowling.

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Legacy**

"Hello," he says when he finds her slumped in a corner on the seventh floor. "What're you doing here?"

"I'm admiring the floor tiles," she says them nonchalantly. True to her word, she is staring quite interestedly at floor. He almost makes a run for it because really, what can he do to help her? He's never had any experience with situations like this and so he thinks it's best to just leave. But as he is about to walk away, she speaks again, more quietly this time that he's not sure if she's talking to him or just thinking out loud. "I've had quite a rough day."

"I know." And indeed he does. They all do, actually. The death of her mother was publicly announced earlier that day and as far as he knows she is supposed to be on her way home already. She must have been packing, he decides, and wanted to take a break from it all. _How sad._

"I'm sorry," he says, because it's all he can really think of to say, "Really I am."

"Thank you."

He sits next to her and is as surprised as she is when she takes his hand. "You lost your parents at a pretty young age, didn't you, Neville?"

He opens his mouth, but she speaks again before he can. "I'm sorry. That was rude of me. Please don't—." And she can't continue the rest of her sentence because her face is full of tears, and she takes her hand out of Neville's to wipe them away.

"It's o-okay, it's okay! Really, it is," he stutters, "Please, please don't cry."

For the first time, she takes her eyes off the floor and looks at him. Her eyes are puffy, and her nose red; nonetheless, he still thinks that she is extremely pretty. "I wasn't going to yell at you or anything," he continues, as he offers her a sad smile.

"You—you weren't?"

"No," and he swiftly shakes his head.

"Oh." She places her hand back in his and speaks again, "Can I ask you a question?"

"Sure. Go ahead."

"Could you tell me how you lost your parents? Only if it's okay with you, of course," she adds anxiously.

He takes a deep breath, and without looking at her, he says, "They were tortured to insanity by Bellatrix LeStrange," the name comes out like a curse, and once again he is filled with so much anger and hatred, that for a moment, all he can see is red. He hears her gasp, and feels her squeeze onto his hand more tightly and everything is back to normal. "They've been in St. Mungo's ever since. I was only a year old."

"Is—is there any chance for them to recover?"

"I've never lost hope, but as of now, there's none at all." He laughs, this bitter kind of laugh that sounds nothing like him. "I guess you could say it's wishful thinking."

"I'm so sorry, Neville."

"It gets easier, though. Not may people believe that, but it does get easier."

She sighs loudly. "Curse this all," she screams as she throws her hands up in the air. "Curse this bloody war! Curse him. Curse damn Vol-Vol-de—oh don't laugh at me!" He tries to hide his chuckle, but it's impossible. "You say the name, then!" But he doesn't even try because he knows he's not ready. Someday soon, though, he will be; he will make sure of that.

"It makes you wonder, doesn't it?" she says suddenly.

"Wonder what?"

"What the big picture is. What we're supposed to do now. Why we even continue to fight if our loved ones are dead."

He looks at her, then, before he speaks; she's crying again, silent tears streaming down her face, and it takes all his strength to stop him from reaching out to hug her. "We're all here, all still kicking for a reason, and that is to uphold the legacy that of our parents, our elders, those who took part in the first war!

"The dead never leave us, you know. Their spirit lives, alive and dwell in you, in all of us! Your mother loved you, Hannah."

"As did yours."

"So keep fighting. Don't give up. It would be a disgrace to your mother's memory if you did."

She remains silent for a moment, contemplating what has been said. Then, slowly, a smile creeps onto her lips and she beams. "Thank you, Neville Longbottom." She then wraps her arms around his neck and embraces him. He embraces her back, slowly, if not awkwardly, and rubs her back.

He stands slowly, a grin as huge as hers plastered on his face, then helps her up.

"Thank you for your time, but I must go finish packing now," she says, and she turns around to leave. "See you, Neville."

"See you." And they both walk away.

Later, when the war finally takes it's toll and them, and Hogwarts is invaded by Voldemort's allies; when the pain is just too much to bear, they both remember that time when she helped him regain his strength, and he helped her find something worth fighting for.

**End.**


End file.
